


While It Was Snowing

by Barkour



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 13:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/687756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jaime found Bart sleeping in the bath with his head resting on the side and his fingers pruned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	While It Was Snowing

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little pick-me-up to pick me up.

Bart fell asleep in the bath again. He hadn’t meant to do it. One moment he was spreading his toes underwater and smiling down at them from his knees. Then there was a hand sliding beneath his cheek and lifting his head up from the side of the tub. The fingertips at the soft skin near his ear were wind-chilled, and he recoiled from them.

Jaime was crouched on the tile beside the tub. His hair was flattened and his short beard glinted where snow had melted into it. He rested his arms on the side of the tub where Bart had slept dreamlessly. Jaime gestured with a finger.

“You gonna have one monster crick in your neck.”

Bart grimaced and massaged his nape where the muscles had stiffened in place. “Yeah. I noticed that. Thanks.”

“Hey, no problem,” said Jaime, his mouth crooking. “You want me to get you a towel?”

His gaze flicked down; he took in the naked length of Bart, knees bent, toes loose and wrinkled. As Jaime looked, Bart stretched his arms up and wide, pulling his chest tight, and then he stuck his legs up out of the water and stretched those, too.

“Nah,” said Bart. “I like it. You should come in, too. There’s lots of room to crash together, if you don’t mind sharing a seat.” He patted his thigh.

This got him a snort out of Jaime, and then Jaime leaned down to splash water into Bart’s face. Bart leaned away from it.

“No way,” said Jaime. He shook his fingers off. “This water is cold, and I like my junk outside my body.”

Bart looked down between his legs. “It’s not that cold,” he said mildly, rocking his knees apart and then together again to make ripples in the water. “I’m fine.”

“Plus you’ve been sitting in this for how long?” Jaime squinted at him. “Like, two hours? Do you have any idea how dirty that water’s gotta be by now?”

Running his hands through his hair, Bart was surprised to find it mostly dry. How long had he slept? It was a rare occasion when he managed to nap more than a half hour.

“It’s not that dirty,” said Bart. He twirled his finger around in the water, drawing a little whirlpool that spun down to meet his kneecap. He’d a thought of a small boat cast upon stormy seas and stilled his finger. “This would be a primo water supply back—before.”

He stuttered on the end of it. Sometimes, his tongue ran more quickly than his brain. That future didn’t exist. It would never come.

Jaime was still crouched beside the tub. Now he looked Bart’s face over, from his chin (pointed) to his nose (standard issue Allen) to the lick of hair that had dried against his brow (it was hair and it was on his brow).

“What?” Bart asked. “What? Do I need to cut my hair again? I like it when it’s all—ploofy.” He made jazz hands. “Like an explosion. Exploding hair.”

Jaime rose and began shrugging out of his sweater. He had a t-shirt on underneath, the pre-stressed Flash one Bart had bought him as a joke for Christmas, and the shirt tugged up his front as he peeled the sweater off. His belly button was dark with hair. The muscles bunched and smoothed under his skin.

“Scooch over,” said Jaime. His close-cropped hair stood on end. He stripped out of the t-shirt, too, and then reached for his belt. “I’m coming in for a landing.”

Bart moved to sling his legs up so Jaime could slip in opposite him. As Jaime bent to peel his jeans off, his narrow shoulders stooped; his shoulder blades flashed. The beetle nesting at his spine showed.

“Hi, Khaji Da,” said Bart, waving.

Jaime kicked his jeans toward the laundry basket. “Khaji Da says leave him alone.”

Bart nodded. “Long day not killing anybody, huh.” At Jaime’s look, Bart shrugged and held his hands wide. “I’m just saying…”

“Khaji Da revised his parameters,” said Jaime severely. “We don’t ever think about using lethal force on anybody.” He tossed his boxers into the basket and then he stepped into the tub.

Jaime’s jaw clenched. He dropped down, facing Bart, his knees pulled up tight before him. His toes had curled. Jaime gripped the sides of the tub and swore.

“Mary, mother of Christ! This is freezing.”

“I got you covered,” said Bart.

He clapped his hands together underwater and rubbed them ferociously, till the water slopped up the sides. Laughing, in that soft and slightly husky way he laughed, Jaime turned his head away and brought a hand up between them.

Bart separated his hands. The water split with them; then it came together again. He smiled across the tub at Jaime.

“Better?”

“Better,” said Jaime. His toes uncurled. He slung his legs over the side of the tub, first the left leg and then the right, so that they dangled from the knees.

“How was the presentation?” asked Bart. He squirted warmed water between his hands.

“Good,” Jaime admitted. He rubbed at his neck. “Would’ve been better if Jake had done his work, but it went all right. You get your test done?”

“Yup,” said Bart. “And then I spent most of the day running around doing hero stuff. Saving cats. I beat the new Herald’s Call again. Can you believe—”

Jaime stuck his hands out. “No spoilers!”

Bart sighed and leaned back against the faucet. The metal edge dug into his shoulder. “You need to hurry up and finish it so I can talk about it with you. Wally’s playing it but with Jai and Irey he’s even slower than he was before.”

“Some of us can only read one book a day,” Jaime said, nudging Bart’s hip with his foot. “You ever think about maybe going to a class for once? At a building? In person?”

“Grife! No.” Bart made a face. “You have to sit still, and they just talk at you, and it’s just so-o-o-o-o old-fashioned. I can do it faster on my own.”

Jaime hooked his toe in Bart’s side, and Bart jerked back, squirming.

“Show-off.”

“You could do it, too. Khaji Da can process information at least a quarter as fast as I can, right?”

Jaime scowled. “That’s cheating. If I’m gonna be a doctor, I’m gonna be a doctor because _I_ know this stuff. Yes, it’s cheating. It’s not fair play. That doesn’t count!”

Bart pushed the advantage. “If you took on-line classes, maybe you could help out more with the League.”

“I know, I know.” Jaime let his head fall back against the wall. “But I’ve been wanting to be a doctor since a long time before all this other stuff came into my life.”

“Well,” said Bart, “you’re stuck with me.”

Jaime considered him across the expanse of water, over the length of their bodies, Bart’s and Jaime’s. “Yeah,” said Jaime, and he smiled lopsided. “I guess I kind of am. Stuck with you mooching off me for the rest of my life.”

“You kind of owe me,” said Bart, “for being so wicked awesome.”

Jaime laughed again. His shoulders quivered. His teeth flashed.

Bart came up out of the water only to come to Jaime on his knees, his hands on either side of Jaime’s hips. He’d wanted to say something about how the world he’d known was gone, that it could never come back, how frightening that was to think sometimes that the only proof that it had ever existed lay in Bart’s memories of a world blanketed in ash and snow with precious little water; but how he was glad he’d gone after all. Glad for the world that existed instead. Glad for Jaime.

Even his tongue wasn’t quick enough for all that.

So Bart settled for showing Jaime. He’d always found doing easier than saying, anyway. Bart kissed Jaime’s warm, familiar mouth, and Jaime reached up to cup Bart’s cheek in his warm, familiar hand. The hairs of Jaime’s beard scratched Bart’s chin. He pushed nearer to Jaime, itching for that contact.

“I’m glad I’m stuck with you,” said Jaime. His eyelids had fallen. His brown eyes were dark, his black hair slick with water but drying now.

Bart said, “Good. ‘Cause I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you,” and he wound his arm around Jaime’s shoulders and dragged him into the water.

Jaime started up, gasping, but instead of dunking Bart—who laughed loudly in his face—Jaime just said, “Oh, yeah? Well, let’s see what you think about this,” bent down, and soundly raspberried Bart’s mouth. Bart counterattacked with tongue, and then it all changed again, Jaime melting down, Bart bubbling up.

The water cooled around them. It was snowing lightly in Dallas that evening, though little of it stuck and they saw none of it from the small bathroom in their tiny apartment. The snow wouldn’t have mattered to them. They had each other.


End file.
